


(I don't need) stars

by Caivallon



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Cottage Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, because everything is better at the cottage, even playoff eliminations, mostly comfort and only a little hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26089354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caivallon/pseuds/Caivallon
Summary: When Mitch is around Freddie, he's so happy he doesn't need anything else.Okay, maybe Zeus and ice cream.And red wine. But if needs must, he can totally go without that. Or the ice cream.
Relationships: Frederik Andersen/Mitch Marner
Comments: 7
Kudos: 43





	(I don't need) stars

**Author's Note:**

> I blame a little chat with [ **breakmystrings** ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/breakmystrings) that inspired this. Thank you for also writing the summary ♥ 
> 
> [ **puckingtrash** ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imafriendlydalek/pseuds/puckingtrash) did a spontaneous and very lovey beta job, thank you. ♥ 
> 
> [](https://imgur.com/8z35BtA)  
> 

**(I don’t need) stars**

There is guilt. 

There always is. 

It’s his companion everywhere he goes. Follows him like a shadow, and like a shadow, it’s sometimes sharp and clear and dark—whereas sometimes it’s vague and grey and almost translucent. Sometimes it seems gone, but it will return as sure as the sun that rises every day. 

Yet unlike the sun, the guilt usually comes at night. When he’s alone, when he switches off the TV and all the lights in his apartment. Then it keeps him from sleeping, from dreaming; keeps him from breathing easily.

Tonight it’s strong. 

Because he’s happy. He’s very happy, even though he _shouldn’t_ be. 

There’s the sound of paws, the soft clicking of claws approaching him where he’s standing at the railing of the wooden deck, and then a cold wet snout nudges into his thigh. Again and again when he doesn’t move, until he finally looks down and pats Zeus’ head. 

“Hi, buddy... gonna watch the sunset with me?” 

Zeus just stares up at him, wags his tails as if he wants to say _‘yes’_. 

“I’m pretty sure he’d rather chew on that bone that you bought this morning.” Freddie teases softly behind him; sometimes Mitch forgets how soundlessly he can move. Or maybe he was too busy with Zeus to notice. 

“And I’m pretty sure my dog would rather cuddle with me than play with a piece of meat,” Mitch replies sniffily. There’s no heat in his voice—he’s too content to mean it. 

As if Zeus understands what they are talking about, he presses his muzzle against Mitch’s palm, licks it once, twice, and then turns away and trots back into the living room. 

“Hey! You… you _traitor_.” 

Freddie chuckles, clearly delighted as they both stare after Zeus. Then he steps in front of Mitch, tall and broad, blocks his line of sight, commands all his attention as if he doesn’t always have it. His hand cups Mitch’s chin so that Mitch looks up at him as if that’s not what he would have done anyway. 

“Don’t pout, _Marnie_. I brought you wine.” 

Which is not the reason Mitch stops pouting, even though he doesn’t tell Freddie this. 

“Thanks.” He accepts the glass and takes a sip right away. “Wanna watch the sunset with me?”

“As a stand-in for Zeus?” 

“Yeah, sorry.” He winks before he turns around, but not without taking Freddie’s hand and pulling it around him so that he can lean back against his body. Shifts and wriggles to signal to Freddie that he wants him closer, _needs him closer_ ; his warmth and his strength and all the safety it promises. 

The echo of Freddie’s heartbeat vibrates against his back, fills his own chest, drowns out every little hint of the ever-creeping guilt. The tickling of Freddie’s breath in his hair is enough to blow away all the other thoughts. 

“Do I at least give better cuddles than Zeus?”

“Uhm… I’d say it’s a tie, but you brought me wine. And you smell better.” 

“Well, that’s at least something.” Freddie chuckles again, and finally uses both arms to embrace Mitch, pulls him in, wraps himself tighter around Mitch—just the way Mitch wanted, _needed_. He hums and takes another sip, offers the glass to Freddie, who shakes his head at first but then nods and drinks. 

Mitch can’t take his eyes from his lips, from the spot where they touched the rim of the glass, and the second Freddie hands it back to him he puts his mouth right _there_ , thinks the wine tastes better now. Then he leans back, trusting Freddie to take his weight. 

The scenario unfolding in front of them is beautiful—it’s the reason he bought this cottage right after he signed his first contract, even before he bought the condo in the Entertainment District. Everybody thought he was crazy then. But it’s still the best investment he ever made. 

It’s been a day with blue skies and fast-passing clouds; some of them still there, hanging low and obscuring the huge orange ball of the sun, obliterating the sharp line of the horizon. The surface of the lake is the same colour, a golden-grey that should be ugly but isn’t. It’s a sunset without the pretty pinks and peach tones like he has seen so often here, but it’s nevertheless beautiful, even if it’s one of the first signs of autumn. 

It’s not cold, far from even chilly yet, but this close to the water it’s always fresher than in Toronto with its canyons of steel and concrete that block every breeze from the lake and store the heat like a huge oven. It’s not quiet, almost the opposite, but the sounds are so different and yet so familiar: birds cawing, crickets chirping, trees rustling… 

One of the last summer days. 

He's spent so many like this here. And yet, he feels like he shouldn't be here now. Feels that he should care more that he's here now. More _guilty._

But then Freddie - as if he read his thoughts - drops a kiss onto the crown of his head. 

And he can't mind. 

He didn't picture Freddie with him when he bought the cottage five years ago. 

Pictured someone else. 

Someone who wasn't as straight as everyone thought he was. Someone who loved and still loves hockey more than anything else. Loves it so much that it makes him sad and doesn’t leave any space in his heart for Mitch. 

And then someone else. Who was even less straight but who hated hockey so much then that it didn't leave any space in his heart for loving Mitch. 

And then again someone else. Who is strong and fierce and unbroken. Who is kind and funny and one of the best friends Mitch could ever imagine. Who loves hockey and his family so much—just like Mitch. They are too much alike to be anything but friends. 

He didn’t picture Freddie with him then. But he can’t picture anyone else anymore. 

Freddie, who loves hockey and hates it sometimes. Who is strong and fierce and unbroken when Mitch needs him to. Who is gentle and sweet, rational and calm… Everything Mitch never thought he would need. 

Before Freddie, Mitch thought love was something wild and intense, something that took away his breath and made him sad one moment and exhilarated in the next. He never thought that love could grow so slowly and steadily that he wouldn't even notice it until he went without him for almost three months and thought that he would starve, or jump out of his skin with restlessness. That he finally felt whole again without even realizing he was broken when he joined the team in training camp last autumn, when he fell into Freddie’s arms and listened to his soft chuckles and looked up to meet dark eyes. 

Freddie sneaked his way into Mitch’s heart. Without even planning it. 

But now there’s a dog bed in Freddie’s apartment even though he’s more a cat person, a huge black blanket that covers his couch so that Zeus can cuddle with them. There’s a sleek Jura Coffee Maker in Mitch’s kitchen because Danish people are just as obsessed with their coffee as Finnish people. There are thousands of small traces everywhere in their lives that no one would even notice except the two of them. 

And Mitch wouldn’t change it for anything in the world. Not even for the Cup that they failed to lift once again. That should be the only thing on his mind - like it is on Connor’s. Or proving all the critics wrong - like it is on Dylan’s. Or justifying all the praise - like it is on Auston’s. 

That’s his _guilt_. 

The one that only Freddie’s arms can keep at bay. Only Freddie’s kiss can make him forget. Only Freddie’s soul can erase. 

When Mitch is around Freddie, he's so happy he doesn't need anything else. 

Okay, maybe Zeus and ice cream. 

And red wine. But if needs must, he can totally go without that. Or the ice cream. 

Thankfully he doesn’t have to, at least not tonight while they are on the terrace of his Muskoka cottage, cuddling on a lounge chair that is definitely too small for two hockey players and a dog. While they have switched off their phones and don’t have anywhere to be for the next few weeks. 

Tonight he’s got everything he could ever want, and with a little sigh he shifts closer to Freddie, nudges him so that he readjusts his arm around Mitch’s shoulder, before turning his head and placing it on Freddie’s warm, solid chest. 

“You comfy?”

“Yeah, almost perfect.”

“ _Almost_?” Freddie huffs amused. “What’s missing?”

(Nothing. Nothing is missing. But Mitch wouldn’t be Mitch if he wasn’t a little bit of an asshole.)

“There could be more stars in the sky. And my boyfriend could kiss me.”

Being mindful of the glass in his hands and Zeus' body stretched over his legs, Mitch carefully angles his head to look up at Freddie. Underneath him, he can feel Freddie laughing softly, feel him stretching to set down his own glass of wine on the table before he tightens his grasp around Mitch.

“Can’t do anything about the first, I’m afraid. But I can help you with the latter.” 

“Yes, _please_.” 

Mitch licks his lips—he can’t help it. It’s been ages since the last time Freddie kissed him. 

Okay, it’s probably only been about twenty minutes, but if you ask him that is far too long. And when his mouth connects with Freddie’s he opens up instantly, flicks his tongue against Freddie’s to invite him in, to lure him into plundering his mouth. The kiss tastes of cookie dough ice cream and red wine at first, but then Mitch finally finds pure Freddie underneath and he can’t control the sigh that escapes him, the relief and happiness because he’s missed it, as silly as it should be. 

They kiss until Mitch is breathless and his lips tingle from the affection. Until he's all trembling and mellow and his heart races inside his chest. 

" _Uhm_ ," he sighs. It's a mixture of delight and disappointment that they have to let go and breathe. But it serves to draw a chuckle out of Freddie, followed by a small smile. The kind of smile that only Mitch can get out of him. 

"What's wrong now? I told you I can't do anything about the stars." 

“But you would?” he can’t help but ask, aware that he probably sounds a little childish, spoilt like he always feels when he’s with Freddie. 

(It’s Freddie’s fault; he indulges him too much.) 

"Yeah, Mitchy… I would." The tone is amused but there's a seriousness in his eyes that takes away Mitch's breath. 

So he turns his face and hides it in the dark fabric of Freddie’s hoodie, against the solidity of his chest. Inhales him: wood and warmth, like glowing embers of a dying fire. Hides until Freddie's hand gently tilts his head and makes him look at him again. 

Mitch wants to close his eyes. And he also never wants to see anything but Freddie. 

So he holds his gaze. Swallows. He doesn't know what to say. Because all of his words have gone missing. 

_They are all Freddie's anyway._

**Author's Note:**

> I’m on [ **tumblr** ](https://miss-malheur.tumblr.com/). Come and talk to me, I'm nice. ^^


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